


the future in a blade of grass

by lavenderseaslug



Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soccer Moms, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 06:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12270663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderseaslug/pseuds/lavenderseaslug
Summary: "Why couldn’t he have liked swimming? Or video games? Or reading quietly in a library?" Serena Campbell thinks to herself for what is most likely the millionth time as she pulls into a parking space in front of a football field, the third one she’s driven to this week.





	the future in a blade of grass

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to jess and dax who let me whine about this a lot.

_ Why couldn’t he have liked swimming? Or video games? Or reading quietly in a library? _ Serena Campbell thinks to herself for what is most likely the millionth time as she pulls into a parking space in front of a football field, the third one she’s driven to this week. “Wait here,” she tells Jason, her tone gentle. He nods, intently lacing up his football boots. They’ve talked about this, the fact that Serena has to talk to the coach before he can go out onto the field to play. 

\- - -

Serena learns that she has a nephew the same day she learns her sister has died. She gets a phone call from a young gentleman who tells her his name is Jason, that he’s thirteen years old, and that he has Asperger’s. He says it all very matter-of-factly as though he’s been prepared to warn people about his unique behavior for many years. Jason tells her his mother has passed away suddenly, that his mother is related to Serena, that he is currently living with a carer, but that he is interested in meeting his aunt, that he wonders if she might let him stay with her.

It’s a lot of information to take in all at once, and she asks if she can think about it. He agrees, says he thought that might be the case, says his current guardian warned him it would be overwhelming for her. “Thank you, Jason,” she says, and hangs up the phone, leans back in her chair, and sits that way for a long time.

In the end, she meets him, gladly. She’s grown fond of her independence, fond of the world she’s created for herself, but she finds she can make room for this, for Jason. He is endearing, his large eyes and penetrating gaze. He is blunt and intelligent and doesn’t suffer fools, and Serena thinks she can see herself, can see her mother, in him. That’s what seals the deal, that’s what makes him seem like family.

Jason has only lived with Serena for a few months when he develops a rather intense and focused obsession with football. He’s found the Euro Cup on television, and starts asking Serena questions - she’s never been one for sports, finds herself looking up answers on her phone as fast as she can, isn’t quite playing it off as actual knowledge. They both are stumped by the concept of “offsides” - it’s hard to see on the screen, when everything moves so quickly. After watching the game, Jason decides to draw up a bracket, looking up rules, statistics and players online, putting as much effort and thought into it as anything Serena has ever done for work. 

And his desire to watch football became a desire to play it. He and Serena have had their fair share of disagreements in their time together as she adjusts to his schedule and he to hers. They chafe against each other on occasion, but Serena can’t deny the swell in her heart when he calls her Auntie. So Serena spends a good amount of time researching whether or not people with Asperger’s can, or should play sports. She feels like a horrible person even thinking the words “can Jason play football?” but doesn’t want to set up false hopes, false expectations, doesn’t want to dash any dreams. She wants to be prepared. As with most things, she learns that it just takes some education on the part of the coaches and the team, and that Jason will have appropriate guidelines for whatever situation may arise, just as with everything else in his life. 

He’s done all the research on local football teams, found four within driving distance, with schedules that didn’t conflict too much with Serena’s, and they allow new members to join throughout the season. She buys him football shoes, shinguards, everything he needs. His legs look pale and spindly in the baggy shorts, but the smile on his face makes it worth the while, splitting his face open in glee.

There are many things Serena wishes she could change in this world - her newfound nephew’s Asperger’s isn’t one of them, but the way people treat him is. When they visit the first team, Jason doesn’t want to play until he meets every one of his teammates by name, and can shake their hand. The coach looks irritated and frustrated, put off by how close Jason chooses to stand by him. When practice ends and Jason lopes back towards her, Serena suggests they don’t return to that particular team.

The second time, Serena suggests that Jason stay in the car while she talks to the coach, to see if he was up for a highly motivated, yet perhaps slightly challenging player on his team. It takes her about five seconds to realize he is not up for that challenge, turns on her heel without even saying good-bye. “This team isn’t for us, Jason,” she says, getting back into the car, buckling herself in. Jason just sighs in resignation, flips the radio on, and lets Serena drive them home. 

\- - -

And now they’re here, the third team, and Serena finds herself chanting “third time’s a charm,” in her head over and over as she walks across the field. She sees a tall woman standing around a mesh bag of footballs, a whistle around her neck and makes her way towards her. Her hair is almost white blonde in the sun, her legs tanned and muscular, and she’s not bothering with the shinguards that her players have velcroed on. 

She catches sight of Serena and lopes over in an easy run, no doubt reading from Serena’s business professional attire that she’s here to talk, not to play. 

“Hi,” she says, and her voice is low, friendly, her face strange but pretty all at once. She sticks out her hand. “I’m Bernie Wolfe, coach of the Holby Hedgehogs.”

Serena laughs at that. “Not a very intimidating animal, is it?” she says, grasping Bernie’s hand in her own. 

“It is to a football! All those spikes!” But Bernie doesn’t sound offended, is still holding onto Serena’s hand. “Hornet, hawk and hippo were already taken, and if we wanted an alliteration, we didn’t have much else of a choice.”

“Didn’t want to be the Hares?” Serena asks, and Bernie ducks her head, hiding a smile, glancing up through her long fringe. “I’m Serena Campbell,” she offers, not making Bernie come up with a rejoinder. She squeezes Bernie’s hand slightly before dropping her grip, letting her fingers drop to her side, “and my nephew would like to play football.”

“Where is he?” Bernie asks, glancing around. “He’s not imaginary, is he?”

“Hah, very droll. No, he’s waiting in the car. He’s, ah, he’s unique. He’s got Asperger’s, which makes him a bit set apart from his peers, and he might need some accommodating, just with rules and routine and that sort of thing, but he’s very keen, knows the game inside and out, could probably give the referees a run for their money, if I’m honest.” Serena says it all in a rush, doesn’t want to present Jason as some sort of monstrosity when really he just likes to know what’s going on and when, that he just is a very precise sort of person.

“Have you had some trouble finding him a team then?” Bernie asks, and Serena nods, a little sadly. “Look, I’m no expert at this sort of thing, but I’ve got a good team over there, and your nephew is welcome to join us. I’ll do research after practice, and we’ll make it work, yeah?” Bernie is earnest and confident and it makes Serena feel a little weak. She doesn’t seem intimidated by the prospect, upset by it, just happy to give Jason a place on her team. She walks back to the car with Serena, says she wants to meet him, make sure he likes her enough to play with her.

“You’re a woman,” is the first thing Jason says when he gets out of the car, and Bernie laughs, chuckles. Serena is immediately alert, wonders if Jason will be offended. She’s never felt so tense, buzzing about wanting Jason to make a good impression, wanting Bernie to win him over, wanting it all to go smoothly.

“Yes, I am,” is all Bernie says.

“When I saw Bernie on the website, I thought you’d be male.” Jason looks at Bernie unblinkingly. “Bernie is generally a man’s name.”

“Well my full name’s Berenice - Bernie’s much easier,” Bernie says easily, and Serena’s sure she’s had to explain this many times before. 

“Mmm,” is all Jason says, and Bernie invites him to follow her back to the field, takes off at a slow run, which Jason matches, and Serena is left behind, doesn’t even feel bereft at the fact, too overcome with emotion at Jason’s ease. She sees a group of parents underneath a tree, sitting in folding chairs in the shade, makes her way over, feeling ill-prepared and shy. She has nothing to sit on, nothing to offer, just nervousness about her nephew. She stands to the side, away from them, just watches Jason as he introduces himself to his teammates. She can’t see any tension or awkwardness, but she can’t hear what’s being said either. Two of the boys break off and place cones at set distances across the field, and Bernie’s pulled Jason aside to explain the activity to him. Serena watches Bernie’s hands show the path he’ll take, walk him through it, watches as Jason tracks the movement with his eyes, nodding his understanding.

It all goes by more quickly than Serena would have guessed. Her legs are tired, but she feels alight with happiness with how Jason’s done. He’s a little shaky, uncoordinated, but he’s trying, and he isn’t getting frustrated, and that was what Serena was worried about more than anything else. As practice ends, the boys split off, rejoin their parents, accept snacks and water, dewy with condensation from being out in the hot day. 

Jason is helping Bernie stack up cones, collect footballs that have been scattered around the field, left in the net of the goal. Serena walks towards them, away from the shade, holding her hand to her forehead to block the glare of the sun. “You need a chair,” Bernie calls from midfield and Serena blushes, her lack of preparation noted. 

“And snacks,” Jason adds. Serena feels that of all the things she was nervous about, her own failure wasn’t one of them. 

“Snacks are important,” Bernie agrees, walking towards Serena, hefting the mesh bag over her shoulder. Serena tries not to notice her arms, strong and tan, just like her legs. Bernie’s parked near Serena’s car, they walk across the grass together, and Serena thinks she’ll also need different shoes to wear to practice.

“Can I have your number?” Bernie asks as Serena unlocks her car with a press of a button. She drops her keys in surprise, didn’t expect Bernie to be so forward, doesn’t know how to respond, feels a flush rise to her cheeks. “For the parent phone tree. In case practice gets canceled, so I can send you game times, you know,” Bernie clarifies and Serena feels supremely stupid, gives her number and ushers Jason in the door, says they’ll need to get a move on if they want to make it to the fish and chips shop in time. “Every Thursday,” Serena says, can’t get into her car fast enough, can’t shed her shame, embarrassment with any more haste. 

“Ah, all right. See you next practice then? I have a spare chair, if you need one!” Bernie’s voice raises as Serena closes her car door, just a small wave of her hand to Bernie before pulling out of her space. 

“Why did we leave in such a hurry, Auntie Serena?” Jason asks. “We have plenty of time before the shop closes, we don’t need to rush.” 

“I was a little embarrassed, Jason,” Serena says, opting for the truth; she’s found it works much better than trying to spin a web of lies he usually sees through anyway. “I thought your coach was asking for my number…” She doesn’t know how to finish the sentence, hasn’t ever talked to Jason about dating, didn’t think it would be an issue for a while. 

“I understand,” Jason says, “I totally understand.” He looks at her with a knowing smile, and Serena feels her face flush again, but she’s equally as grateful that he doesn’t seem put off by it, and that he doesn’t have follow-up questions. In gratitude, she lets him get extra chips and a large gherkin with his meal, an unheard of treat on fish and chips night. 

\- - -

The first match puts Serena on edge. She’s got sliced oranges in plastic bags, string cheese packed away in a small cooler. Jason has two water bottles - one with ice, one without. He puts on his bright red team jersey with beaming pride, pulls up his matching red socks so they almost hit his knees, knobby and awkward. Serena’s found a red blouse to wear in honor of the day, worries only slightly that she’ll sweat through it. She hasn’t yet bought her own chair, just uses the one Bernie brings for her, the one that’s already set up and waiting under the tree at every practice. She thanked Bernie, the first time, but Bernie just waves off the gratitude with embarrassment, runs off to the team, leaves Serena with nothing to do but plop down in the chair. 

She’s acquainted with the parents, not enough to be friends, or to want to organize a get-together outside of practice. She thinks some of them are angry at Jason’s presence on the team, that they think he’s an anchor, but most of them have taken to him with the same amiableness as their sons, as Bernie. 

Jason’s preferred position is on defense, so he has more time to watch things, plan it all out. He tried goalie, once, and it was disastrous - he truly hated the balls flying towards his face, unsure of which direction they would go. He has a knack for following the ball, knowing where it’ll go, knowing when a player is trying to pull a fake out. It can’t really overcome his lack of coordination, but his heart is in the right place and he is able to get the ball away a few times. 

Things go more poorly in the second half, when his shoe comes untied and he loses sight of everything else going on, can only focus on fixing his laces. He sits on the field, ties them up, lets a member of the other team shoot past him. Serena resists yelling at him to forget his shoes, to focus on the game, knows that won’t do anything but make him upset. 

After the game, Jason goes about his usual task of picking up cones, grabbing up loose balls, a duty he’s given himself, a way he asserts his presence on the team. Bernie walks over to where Serena’s sitting and squats down so she’s almost eye level, just a little lower. “I think you should double-knot his laces,” she says, and Serena blinks, because she didn’t know what she expected to come out of Bernie’s mouth, but it wasn’t that.

“What’s that?” she says, making to rise from the chair, Bernie following, moving to a standing position. 

“Double-knot his laces. They’re less likely to get untied then, and he won’t be distracted during the game.” Serena blinks again, because she is, in this moment, awed by Bernie. Amidst everything that it takes to coach, she’s come up with a solution on the spot that will no doubt work in the future. 

“We’ll do that, thanks,” Serena says, can’t really convey her thankfulness enough, wants to envelop Bernie into a hug. Instead she folds up the chair and hands it to Bernie. “I’ll - I’ll see you at practice,” she says. There’s always something more she wants to say to Bernie, always wants to leave her with a good impression, with a witty remark. She just wants to make an impact on Bernie, for Bernie to want to use her phone number for something other than letting her know a practice has been rained out.

But she can’t think of anything, so she just stands awkwardly until Bernie nods and walks away. She gives Jason a pat on the back as he heads towards Serena, a gesture of thanks for his work cleaning up the field. Serena likes that he lets her do that. They walk to the car and Jason dumps his dirty, grass-covered shoes in the trunk along with his duffel bag. Serena thinks of a time when her car was pristine, clean, when it didn’t have dust and detritus from the football field in the backseat and the front, when it didn’t have the slight odor of teenage boy. But then she looks at Jason, sitting in the passenger seat, and wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

She turns the key in the ignition, and there’s a growling noise that doesn’t sound particularly good. She gives it another go, still nothing. She stops herself from slamming her hands against the wheel, instead explains to Jason that there’s something wrong, that she’ll have to call for a tow truck.

She’s got the hood propped open, is staring down at quite a bit of machinery that she doesn’t understand at all and is on the phone with a mechanic when she hears from behind her, “Engine been growling or whining?” It’s Bernie, because it’s always Bernie, and who else could it be.

“Are you a mechanic as well as a football coach?” Serena asks, an arch to her brow. “I’m just calling for a tow - hang on a tick.” She holds up her hand as the mechanic comes back on the line, says he’ll have a truck over in five minutes time. 

“Are you sorted? I can give you a ride home if you need,” Bernie offers, and Serena wonders if she’s never not heroic, a golden, gleaming goddess. 

“I think we’ll be fine, a truck’s on it’s way. But thanks,” Serena says, because she’ll apparently never stop thanking Bernie, thinks it’s the word she uses most often with her. 

“It’s nothing. See you,” Bernie says, ducking in boldly, bravely, to press a kiss to Serena’s cheek, wipes her thumb after it. “You’ve got a spot of grease just there,” she says, and Serena’s whole face feels on fire.

\- - -

They make it through five games without another incident, Jason adding a double-knot to his routine. Serena thinks something’s got to give, and then it does. They have a game with a referee who doesn’t quite seem to care about the rules, who doesn’t call foul after foul, leaving the Hedgehogs limping and angry and sore. Jason takes it quite badly, shouts at the ref that he’s not being fair, kicks his foot, sending a chunk of dirt and sod into the air. 

Serena stands, only to find another mother’s hand on her arm. “You’ll make it worse,” she says, with a knowing air about her. “Let Bernie deal with it.” 

Bernie’s way of dealing with it is to pull Jason off the field. Instead of sitting with his team, Jason stomps over to Serena, hisses to her about how the referee isn’t following the rules, how it clearly states on page nine of the Recreational Football League Handbook that a purposeful trip in the defending team’s goal box shall result in a penalty kick. 

“He didn’t give us a kick, Auntie. He didn’t award us anything. And that was the fifth time!” Jason’s been stewing about it all game, Serena can tell. He’s rattling off a litany of offenses that the referee has incurred, and Serena doesn’t know what to tell him. 

“Sometimes, people are bad at their jobs,” is what she comes up with, but that just launches him into a new line of questioning.

“Will he be fired from refereeing, then?” Jason asks. “Can I report him to a higher authority? I don’t think he should be allowed to continue in this profession.” Serena can quite easily picture Jason marching up to some commissioner’s office, with this referee’s name and license number memorized, as well as a list of his grievances. 

He spends the rest of the game sitting cross-legged in front of Serena’s chair, eating most of a bag of segmented oranges, his hands and mouth sticky, the smell giving Serena the slightest of headaches, but she thinks if this is the worst of it, then she’s gotten off easy, none of her deep fears about Jason playing football fully realized.

Another player cleans up the field after the game, filling Jason’s role without being asked, and Jason just turns away, folds his arms. “I’d like the referee to apologize. Especially as we won even with his interference,” he says, his tone sulky. 

“I don’t think he will, Jason, I’m sorry to say,” Serena says, and touches his shoulder gently as Bernie approaches.

“Sorry I had to take you out of the game, Jason,” Bernie says, and Jason won’t meet her gaze. Bernie looks at Serena, who can only shrug. Jason can only be appeased by reason, and it’s sometimes difficult to explain the irrationality of human behavior in a way that he can grasp and come to terms with.

“It’s not fair,” Jason says, finally, a minute of silence, during which Serena and Bernie have simply shrugged back and forth at one another.

“It’s not,” Bernie agrees. “Sometimes that happens. Do you remember in this last Euro Cup, when Germany was playing Italy, and Müller was about to score and the referee called offsides, even though Chiellini was clearly standing next to the goal?” Serena has no idea what Bernie’s talking about, but Jason’s nodding, so she supposes it’s all right. “That ended up costing Germany the game, I think, don’t you?”

Jason nods again. “It wasn’t fair then, either. Why can’t things just be fair?” he asks, his voice not plaintive, just curious, the way he gets when he’s trying to understand something that is just outside of his ken.

“I don’t know, Jason,” Bernie says. “But sometimes we just have to get on with things, even in the face of unfairness.” She shrugs. 

Jason appears to mull this over, as if he’s slotting in some puzzle pieces, rolling it around in his head. And then he nods. “We’ll get on with it,” he says. “You should come out with us for pizza, Coach Bernie.” Serena’s gaze snaps to Bernie’s - she’d promised Jason pizza as a way of appeasing him from the sidelines, didn’t anticipate a third joining them. Bernie’s looking back at Serena through her fringe, sticking slightly to her forehead from sweat, her cheeks pink and hot under her tan. 

Serena feels her own face grow pink and hot, isn’t sure it’s obvious underneath the sunburn she’s developed, the freckles across her nose. “Join us,” she offers, and Bernie smiles, a small, shy smile. “I’ll drive, if you like.” 

“You’ll have to sit in the backseat, though,” Jason says, and Bernie laughs, a loud honking sound that Serena hasn’t heard before, loves instantly. 

\- - -

“Pineapple?” Serena says, wrinkling her nose. “That’s almost enough of an offense to disqualify you from being Jason’s coach.” Bernie laughs again, and Serena thinks all she wants to do for the rest of the evening is make Bernie laugh.

“Let’s just do pepperoni, then,” Bernie says amiably, and Jason nods his agreement. Serena lets herself be talked into allowing him to get a milkshake, gets one for herself too, enjoying the cold vanilla ice cream after spending the afternoon outside in the heat.

“Would you like some?” she asks, offering Bernie her glass, and Bernie takes it, her fingers just brushing Serena’s as she passes it over. And Bernie drinks right from the straw, her mouth where Serena’s was moments before, and it seems so familiar, so easy, that it makes Serena’s heart thud against her chest. 

“Can’t remember the last time I had a milkshake,” Bernie says, and sounds almost wistful.

“This could be a post-game tradition,” Serena says without thinking, without realizing she’s just invited Bernie to have dinner with them every Saturday afternoon until the season ends. Bernie looks at Serena with that same shy, cautious gaze as when Jason invited her out just an hour earlier. 

“I’d like that,” Jason says before Bernie can say anything, and Serena knows that’s that. Once Jason has latched onto something to add to his routine, it’s solid as a rock, not likely to change unless something catastrophic occurs. 

The pizza comes, steaming and hot, smelling delicious. They all take a slice, eat quietly. Bernie’s slice drips cheese, sticking to her lip, and Serena reaches in, wipes it off, licks her thumb clean and Bernie’s mouth goes slack, her eyes wide, her cheeks red, and Serena freezes, her thumb still between her lips as she realizes what she’s done. Jason hasn’t noticed anything, has caught sight of a Manchester United game on one of the televisions over the bar in the restaurant and is fully focused on that.

They make awkward, stilted conversation, Serena still trying to recover some equilibrium. She learns that Bernie works as a temp during the day, going around to different offices as needed, never willing to fully settle down, happy to experience new environments all the time. She talks about her job as a surgeon, her frustrations with feeling like she’s the lone woman her age in the building, with not having an equal she can really talk to. An easiness creeps into their conversation, melting away the iciness left over from Serena’s unthinking gesture. 

Serena doesn’t know if it made Bernie uncomfortable, thinks it was just a mirror of Bernie’s gesture from the day her car went kaput in the parking lot. She isn’t sure what to think, until the bill comes, a small, unassuming receipt on a small clipboard, and she and Bernie both reach for it.

“I should pay - I intruded on your afternoon with your nephew,” Bernie says.

“Yes, you can see he was quite put out by your presence,” Serena answers dryly, eyebrow arched as she slants her gaze at Jason, still staring at the TV. 

“I’ll arm wrestle you for it,” Bernie says, holding her hand out, elbow resting on the table.

“You can’t be serious,” Serena says, though she’s already gamely sliding her hand into Bernie’s, gripping Bernie’s fingers between her own. Jason even pulls his gaze from the football game to watch, seems torn over who to root for. Serena can only think about Bernie’s smooth hand, her fingernails, dirty from spending time outside playing sports, her callused knuckles. She sees Bernie’s eyes darken as they squeeze each other’s hands, sees the tension in Bernie’s neck, wonders if Bernie is pretending to exert effort as she slowly moves the back of Bernie’s hand towards the tabletop. She finds she doesn’t even care if Bernie is letting her win, because all she can think about is the flush in Bernie’s cheeks. 

“I’d have thought you’d have the upper hand in this department,” she says, a slight strain in her voice - she’s almost got Bernie, has almost won this match. 

“It appears there’s life in the old dog yet,” Bernie parries back. “I underestimated you.” It isn’t really winning, when Serena gets Bernie’s hand against the table, as she has to let go of Bernie’s fingers. She pulls out her credit card, slides it onto the clipboard, and the waitress appears magically beside them, slides the card into the machine, lets Serena type in her PIN, all the while, Serena can barely pull her gaze from Bernie, enters her PIN wrong twice before finally pulling her focus to the task in front of her.

The drive back to the football field, to Bernie’s waiting car, is a quiet one, Jason in the front seat next to Serena, Bernie in the back again, and Serena doesn’t know what to say, not with Jason right there. She turns on the radio, Sonny and Cher coming through the speakers.

“Oh, I love her,” Bernie chirps from the backseat. “Dusty Springfield was one of my first records.”

“This isn’t Dusty Springfield,” Serena sputters with a laugh. Even Jason chuckles - they’d watched some sort of documentary on the history of pop music just last week, and both Cher and Dusty were mentioned, enough to make Jason look them up on the internet, ingest some facts about them. 

“It isn’t?” Bernie asks, her voice small, embarrassed, and Serena wants to assuage her worries, but can only shake her head, her hands firmly on the steering wheel.

She pulls her car right up next to Bernie’s, gets out as Bernie does. Jason merely rolls down his window to thank Bernie and say he’ll see her at practice. Then he rolls his window back up and fiddles with the radio.

“You don’t have to take me out after every game,” Bernie says, and Serena doesn’t know how to read that, if it’s just that Bernie doesn’t want to be a bother, or if she actually doesn’t want to come out with the two of them every week. 

“It’s up to you,” she says lightly, “but I know I enjoy your company - that is, Jason and I enjoy your company.” She feels wrong-footed again, the way she has become used to feeling around Bernie. It was the right thing to say, though, because Bernie smiles - not the shy, small one from before, but a proper grin, beaming and wide. And so Serena leans in, presses a kiss to Bernie’s cheek, doesn’t let herself think twice about it. “See you at practice, Coach,” she says, her voice low, knows her eyes are glinting, can see Bernie’s eyes go dark, a smirk on her lips.

\- - -

Serena’s folding chair is waiting in its usual position when she arrives for practice the on Tuesday evening. Jason is always out of the car ahead of her, running to the field, all awkward limbs and graceless movement, but he’s happy, and that’s all that matters, in the end. She’s about to sit down when she catches sight of a small piece of paper folded in the cupholder, and pulls it out.

_ Dinner tomorrow? _ is all it says, but Serena recognizes the writing from the team roster, knows it’s Bernie’s. She worries the corner of the note with her thumb before pulling out her phone, sliding to Bernie’s contact information, decides to use Bernie’s phone number for something other than saying she and Jason are running late to practice. It’s just a quick message, to say that she’d love to have dinner, that seven o’clock is good. 

Serena spends the practice hardly looking at the field, just preparing herself to ask Jason if it’s all right if she goes out to dinner with his coach, what he thinks about that. When they get to the car and he dumps his things in the boot, she decides to just go for it. “Jason, Bernie asked me to dinner tomorrow night.”   
“But it’s not after a game,” he says, and Serena expected that, knows it’s not something that fits into his defined schedule. 

“It’s something different, Jason. It’s. Well, it’s a date, I think.” She realizes then she only assumes it’s a date, hopes she hasn’t misread the situation entirely. “Is it all right? If I date Bernie?” 

“Mmm,” Jason hums, and he gets into the car without answering, pulls his seatbelt across his chest tightly, and Serena allows herself a breath before she gets in the car after him. “Will we still go out for pizza after games?” he asks after a bit.

“Yes, of course, Jason. This won’t change any part of your life, it’s just - it’s just something different for my life.” She suddenly worries about the unknown future, the what ifs of it all - what if the date goes horribly, what if Bernie decides she doesn’t like Serena, what if she doesn’t want to coach Jason anymore because of it. She feels overwhelmed with it all, almost gasps for breath from it. There are unintended consequences to dating Jason’s football coach, something she neglected to think about when first confronted with the prospect of a date with the winning blonde woman. 

Serena gets them home, gets Jason dinner, then practically runs up to her room, fumbles with her phone, calls Bernie.

“Hello?” Bernie’s voice is warm, pleased to be receiving a call from Serena. It’s low and beautiful and Serena could easily let herself be carried away by it and forget the reason behind her call.

“What happens if this doesn’t work?” she asks without preamble, so frenetic in her worry.

“If it doesn’t...I think you’ll have to catch me up, Serena - I think I’ve missed a bit of the conversation,” Bernie says, and Serena closes her eyes, takes a breath.

“We’re going out to dinner tomorrow night,” Serena says, hears a murmur of agreement on the other end of the call. “I am assuming it’s a date.” There’s another murmur of assent, and Serena is relieved that at least she didn’t misread the situation. “What if you decide you don’t want to date me? What if I’m too boring? What if when I kiss you good night, you think I have horrible breath?” She stops herself because she can hear Bernie’s chuckle, knows she sounds a little crazy. 

“So there’s a good night kiss in store for me, then?” Bernie teases, her voice all husky and cozy and Serena knows she’s lost the battle, knows she’s going out for dinner with Bernie tomorrow night no matter what happens. “Nothing will stop me from coaching Jason, if that’s what you’re worried about, Serena. I wouldn’t have asked you to dinner if I thought it would be an issue.” Serena leans her head against her bedroom door, thinks she should have realized that Bernie would have given this thought too, wouldn’t have just jumped into it. Bernie, who did research on the best way to coach a youth with Asperger’s, in order to do the best job possible, would not have just casually invited Serena to dinner without a thought for how it would impact Jason. “I’ll pick you up, then?” Bernie’s voice pulls Serena back to the phone call, and she nods before realizing it’s a phone call and says yes, says she’s excited, says she’s looking forward to it, and hangs up before she can embarrass herself further.

\- - -

It’s been a while since Serena has been on a date, a while since she’s had to think about dressing to impress one specific person. She chooses a light blouse, black slacks, opts for heels, because it feels nice to be fancy. Serena sits on the edge of the couch in her sitting room, where she can see through the window to the street outside, where she’ll be able to see Bernie pull up. She’s thrumming with so much excitement that she almost feels as if she’s hovering above the sofa, and is relieved when she sees headlights, when she can stand and head to the door. 

She slides into the front seat of Bernie’s car, and there’s awkwardness as they both lean in to kiss each other’s cheek. Serena laughs, embarrassed, and then Bernie’s hand is against her face, her fingers tilting Serena’s face, and Bernie’s lips are on Serena’s mouth. It’s nice - more than nice. Serena thinks she could happily do this all evening and forego dinner. “I thought I’d get that out of the way,” she says, her voice soft and breathy when she pulls away.

“Mm,” is Serena’s only response, her eyes still closed, her mouth smiling, and she knows it’s silly to feel this blissful from so little, but she can’t help it. After a beat, she opens her eyes, and looks at Bernie, feels all soft and happy, rests her hand against Bernie’s thigh. “Take me to dinner, Coach,” she says, squeezing Bernie’s leg ever so slightly, and Bernie drives off. 

The post-game pizza managed to get the first date jitters, the awkwardness of the situation, out of the way. Instead there’s easy conversation where they trade horror stories of work, and then, just as easily, their conversation turns from lighter topics towards a far deeper bent. Bernie talks of the guilt she feels every time she leaves a temp posting at an office, every time there’s a good-bye party for her and all of her coworkers tell her how hard she’ll be to replace. Serena shares how difficult it can be to be Jason’s aunt, how she’d never imagined herself parenting a thirteen year-old boy, and doing it alone no less, how she often feels inadequate in the face of his needs. At some point during the meal, Bernie’s hand finds Serena’s, her fingers nestling nicely between Serena’s, and they revel in the pleasant awkwardness of eating with one hand.

Bernie acquiesces to Serena’s insistence on paying the bill, just says that she’ll get it next time, her words dripping with promise and meaning and hope, and Serena lets it roll around her chest, lets her heart be enveloped in possibility. 

Bernie drives Serena home, their hands still clasped, sitting next to the gear shift, and Serena doesn’t think she’s ever been so saccharine on a first date. Bernie insists on walking Serena to the door, the porchlight on over their heads. “There was something about a good night kiss?” she says, her voice going up hopefully, and Serena can only smile, lean in, and give in to what feels like an inevitable pull to place her mouth on Bernie’s. She slides her tongue against the seam of Bernie’s lips, feels the sun-chapped skin, feels the warm wetness of Bernie’s mouth as her lips part, allowing Serena entrance. She only pulls away when she hears the door open, hears Jason announce through the screen door that it’s ten-thirty and that she should be heading to bed so that she can be awake enough to drive him to school in the morning. 

She smiles ruefully, places one final peck to Bernie’s lips. “I’ll call you,” she promises and Bernie grins, trots down the steps to her car, her blonde hair bouncing in the moonlight, lit by streetlamps.

\- - -

Serena feels jittery at the next practice, wonders if every other parent knows that she and Bernie went out on a date, wonders if there’s a metaphorical neon sign above her head flashing her singular desire to run across the field, to stop practice, to kiss the football coach square on the lips. But no one says anything, and Jason keeps what he knows to himself - Serena had been worried he’d make a seemingly innocuous comment that would let everyone know just what was going on. 

Bernie calls everyone over after practice, parents and players alike, and Serena feels a little worried, a little bewildered, doesn’t know what reason there could be for this kind of assemblage.

“As you know,” Bernie says, when they’re all gathered, “this Saturday is our last regular season game, and tournaments start the following week. As such, we will have our team banquet on  Sunday evening, here at the park, in the field house. I’ll send out an email with dish assignments, and a request for award nominations. Thank you all, really, for a wonderful season!” Bernie’s coaching style is short and to the point, direct, and Serena wonders if that’s part of the reason she responds to Jason so well.

The crowd disperses, and again, Serena and Jason are left, Jason picking up balls and cones, dumping them in the ever-present mesh bag. “What dish will we be assigned?” Serena asks, nudging Bernie gently with her shoulder as they watch Jason work. 

“Something sweet?” Bernie asks, turning to Serena, smirking, and Serena almost groans, can’t stop herself from rolling her eyes.

“I can manage a dessert,” she says, holds back from kissing Bernie. Jason trots over to them, and Serena doesn’t have anything to say to prolong her goodbye to Bernie, so just settles for an awkward pat to Bernie’s shoulder as she turns to leave. 

The email about the banquet and dish assignments comes the next day, and sure enough, Serena’s name is right there, next to dessert. She thinks she’ll make a cake, it’s easy enough, bound to please, and she knows Jason will like it. There’s a request for nominations for “Most Valuable Player,” “Most Improved Player,” “Most Team Spirit.” Serena doesn’t think Jason will win any of the awards, doesn’t know if he’ll expect to. She thinks that he’s always fairly realistic about his reception in the world, doesn’t think he has any grand imaginings that he’s the reincarnation of Pele come to play for the Holby Hedgehogs. She asks Jason who he wants to nominate and he tells her three names, and she doesn’t know enough to refute it, sends an email back to Bernie, signs it with an x before her name. 

The Hedgehogs win their final game, Jason even gets a few good kicks in, and Serena’s relieved to see it. There’s a feeling of excitement about the team, they’re well-seeded for the tournament, and though Serena barely understands what that means, she can tell that Bernie and Jason are both pleased, so she’s pleased by proxy.

The three of them go out for their post-game pizza, and Jason doesn’t say anything when Bernie kisses Serena over the steaming pizza. “Excited for the banquet tomorrow?” she asks Jason, and he shrugs. 

“Auntie Serena’s making my favorite cake,” he says. “And I hope John wins MVP. He’s scored the most goals this season. I don’t know if I’ll like the rest of the food, though.” 

“Confidentially, I will tell you that John has gotten the most votes for MVP,” Bernie says. “And what if I bring an order of fish and chips just for you to eat, in case the rest of the food isn’t quite up to your standards?” Jason appears to mull it over for just a few moments and then nods, smiles. 

“That would be good, thank you,” he says, and Serena can only think of how often they find themselves thanking Bernie Wolfe. 

“You could come over tomorrow, sit with me while I bake the cake? We could drive to the banquet together?” Serena offers softly. “Pick up Jason’s fish and chips from his favorite shop?” She gently bumps her knee against Bernie’s, is tempted to reach down to touch Bernie’s knee, but just stops herself. 

“I’d like that,” Bernie says, and Serena smiles, lets herself squeeze Bernie’s knee after all, is gratified by the small, reflexive jump from how sensitive, how ticklish she is there. Serena doesn’t know if Jason will win any awards on Sunday, doesn’t even know if her cake will come out to his standards, but she knows there’s a victory in this, the three of them, sitting around this table, Jason in sweaty, smelly socks, his practice jersey yellowing slightly, a grass stain on the shoulder, Bernie in her coaches gear, the whistle still on a lanyard swinging against her chest, the pale skin below the collar of her shirt just barely visible, her hair sticking to her neck, and Serena, sun-freckled and wrinkled from sitting in a canvas chair underneath a tree, her hand on Bernie’s thigh, her gaze trained on her nephew. There’s a victory in this. And she leans in to kiss Bernie, one more squeeze to her thigh, and lets out a laugh, deep and throaty, at how she jumps at the touch.


End file.
